


Happy Endings Are Real

by tadpole_party



Category: Wooden Overcoats (Podcast)
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, antigone rudyard and georgie get to be happy, i said so, so is this fic, this podcast is about family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:33:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 15,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28332438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tadpole_party/pseuds/tadpole_party
Summary: Georgie Crusoe and her chosen family were many things. One of the thing they were not is especially contented. This is how that changed.(Takes place immediately after season three final.)
Relationships: Antigone Funn & Eric Chapman, Dr. Henry Edgware/Antigone Funn, Eric Chapman/Rudyard Funn, Georgie Crusoe & Antigone Funn & Rudyard Funn, Georgie Crusoe/Jennifer Delacroix
Comments: 63
Kudos: 30





	1. Georgie

**Author's Note:**

> yeehaw

Georgie Cruise was a lot of things. A gifted cake maker, a talented swordsman, a strong swimmer, and a professionally licensed skydiver. Amongst the multitude of capabilities that she possessed was one of her most distinct: Georgie Crusoe was not one to give up. 

So she did just that. She buried her Nana. Scattered her ashes. Wept. Then she took several deep breaths, was given the rest of the week off from work, and went home. 

And it was horrible. God did she try to stay in that house. It loomed all around her. It was too big and too quiet and too much and too little all at the same time. She couldn’t fall asleep in it. She tried desperately to live there for several days. 

Now, she was no quitter, this has been well established already, but she knew that she had to take care of herself. Exhaustion is a nasty thing, as is well known on Piffling, despite the lifestyle of their doctor. 

Naturally, Georgie did what she did best. She had very few strong mottos in her life, one being don’t quit and the other being do not waste time. So she packed the needed boxes of personal items, grabbed Timmy, and drove to Funn funerals. 

Rudyard Funn was expecting all sorts of things from a grieving and sad Georgie, but her with several cardboard boxes precariously balanced on top of an electric scooter, accompanied by perhaps one of the silliest dogs he had ever seen, was not quite it. 

“Georgie?” He called outside. She grinned at him. 

“Hello, sir! I’m moving in.” She declared. Now, the Funns had spent a lot of time with Georgie Crusoe in the past years and were aware that when she had her mind set to something she was near unstoppable. 

So Rudyard nodded and said, “Okay. Take one of the empty bedrooms upstairs.” 

And this was the new way of things. Georgie had moved into Funn Funerals for good. Not that Rudyard and Antigone minded. And Madeleine and Timmy got along very well. (Poorly hidden secret: Rudyard Funn likes dog, therefore likes Timmy. Other much more well hidden secret: Antigone likes anything that will keep her company.) 

Georgie, still not having to do much work until the mayor and the reverend returned from their honeymoon, was without any paid job at the time. So she kept herself busy. Kept herself very busy in fact. 

She started with her Nana’s house. She took her deep breaths, told the Funns to stay there, that this was the part she would have to do alone, brought Timmy, and cleaned out her Nana’s house. And she cried. And it sucked. It really really sucked. Because grief is painful and difficult and loss is not something that people are ever really prepared for. 

But she got it done. She walked back to Funn Funerals, holding two boxes of loved things and an old record player, accompanied by a dog. They played boggle that night. It would’ve been fine if Madeleine hadn’t kept helping Georgie cheat. But really, what else is a mouse to do when someone she cares for is struggling?

Now Georgie was very proud of the work she had accomplished. She had made all the progress she had needed on her Nana’s house. She did not have it in her to sell it yet, but it was mostly empty. She turned her sights from her Nana’s house to where she now lived. Her new home. Funn Funerals. 

It was a dusty, musty place. She steeled herself at the sight of it. Endless cobwebs and unknown beasties in each corner. Luckily, one Miss Georgie Crusoe was very good at cleaning houses, especially old, dark ones that haven’t had a good dusting in the last two centuries. 

Rudyard came home after a semi frustrating, semi enjoyable day of tormenting Eric Chapman to a complete shock. 

“Georgie!” He yelled as soon as he opened the door. 

Steps hurried down from the attic. “Afternoon, sir!” she said, covered in dust, but looking the happiest he had seen her since her Nana passed. 

He sighed. “Georgie, what did you do to my house?” 

“I cleaned it. It’s a really beautiful building under all the dirt. And it’s not just your house. Antigone lives here and I live here now too.” Georgie explained, grinning and cheerful. 

He sighed again. Reminded himself that grieving was a process and said, “Yes, yes. You have made your point. Maybe a little um, cleaning will help liven the place up.” 

Georgie nodded and went back up into the attic. Rudyard looked down at Madeleine. 

“You have to watch her, okay?” He commanded, she let out an affirmative squeak. 

Rudyard’s gentle compromise stood in stark difference to Antigone’s reaction. She walked out of her mortuary, night having already fallen, and nearly fell down the stairs back down into it 

“Georgie. What happened?” She asked, very forward, noticeably confused. 

“God with your reactions to this, it’s no wonder this place is such a mess. I found several centuries of records in your attic. The Mayor wants those. He might even pay for them.” Georgie replied, from her place atop the kitchen counter. Rudyard nodded from the floor, not really paying attention to anything either of them were saying. 

Antigone narrowed her eyes. “You didn’t answer my question Georgie.” 

“I cleaned it! It’ll help with business. This place has great light if you open up the curtains. It’s fantastic!” Georgie exclaimed, “Today I’ve washed all the windows, vacuumed, dusted, cleaned out several bedrooms, and I’ve started on cleaning out the attic. It’s a mess up there.” 

Antigone sat down next to Rudyard on the floor. He still hadn’t noticed. 

“Thank...thank you, Georgie. Really, thank you.” Antigone said genuinely and smiled. Georgie smiled back. Rudyard jumped at seeing Antigone, having finally noticed that she was there.

Once he had calmed down, Rudyard took a look at the two people, one mouse, and one dog sitting around him. 

“I’m starting to think things might be different around here.” He said, and he was surprised to find that he had a feeling that it was going to be good change. 

Georgie hopped off the counter to sit next to the Funns on the floor. 

“I’m starting to think you’re right, sir.” She replied.


	2. Georgie

Thus started the great change, as it would be called. No one really noticed it, excepts for the Funns, Georgie, and Chapman. Eric Chapman didn’t really know what to think of it. He was proud of them, he was jealous of them. He was glad that they seemed to be a bit happier. It’s not like they were getting any more business than they usually did, but they seemed to be happier. Georgie did too. Despite what some may believe, Eric Chapman very much cared for his across the street neighbors. 

Georgie learned a lot within the first few weeks of living with the Funn twins. There were some surprises. Rudyard was a morning person. Antigone was not. Madeleine slept in Rudyard’s coat pocket during bad weather. Rudyard was scared of thunderstorms. Antigone liked the taste of cheap wines when she could have them. Georgie found living with them far easier than she expected. 

She also realized one thing that rattled her completely. The Funns were happier now that she had moved in, but they were also so very very far from actually content. 

Georgie took it upon herself to investigate. She spent an entire day following Rudyard around. He kept to himself mostly. Talked to Madeleine. Was ignored at best, hated at worst. Georgie didn’t like it one bit. The Funn family had isolated themselves through years, maybe even centuries, of bad reputation and misfortune. 

Then she followed Antigone. She kept to herself even more than Rudyard. Georgie noticed that Antigone wasn’t unhappy with her job the same way Rudyard was. Antigone was lonely. Deeply and profoundly lonely. She longed and was sad and Georgie hated it. 

Sitting there in an empty movie theater on a Thursday night with French cinema playing, Georgie cried. She cried and cried. She had followed Antigone all the way here. And she was so so sorry she did. How much pain did these two beautiful bastards that she had declared her family carry around? How could they stand it? 

Antigone heard her cry and walked over. She looked for a second, then sat down in the seat next to her. 

“Why do you do this?” Georgie asked, “You could leave here. You don’t have to stay. Go live those dreams, Antigone.” 

Antigone held her hand. Georgie’s hand, covered in callouses, Antigone’s hand, cold, practiced, steady. 

“I couldn’t leave you and Rudyard behind.” 

They sat in silence for a while like that. As two tragic souls fucked like rabbits on the big screen in front of them. Some sort of bizarre testament to hatred and love all at the same time. Georgie could never bring herself to enjoy these films. She knew Antigone did. Found them romantic in their sadness. 

“Are you happy, Antigone Funn?” Georgie asked. Simple and sincere. Antigone froze. 

“I’m not sure that is an option I am allowed to have.” She replied. 

Georgie let out a shaky laugh. “It is. It’s an option.” 

There, sitting in a dark movie theater, almost completely empty, just her and Antigone, Georgie had a very important realization. Georgie Crusoe was not a quitter and neither was her family. But the Funns deserved to be happy first. As long as she could look back, even when Funn Fuunerals was getting business, Rudyard and Antigone had never been happy. 

Their happiness was more important than any sort of pride over not giving in. It always would be. 

Georgie took several steady breaths. Gave Antigone’s hand a squeeze and smiled. “I’m starting to think that it’s time you and your brother had a career change.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just think that Georgie’s neat


	3. Rudyard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rudyard is so fun to write. What a drama queen.

Rudyard Funn, like Georgie Crusoe, was a great many things. He was inherently a bitter horrid little man, but he was also charming and endearing in his own way. But one of the things he was most definitely not was very accepting of sudden change. 

So when Georgie cornered him one day after another unsuccessful business day of trying to torment Chapman, he was thrown off guard. 

“I’ve been thinking, sir, and it seeems to me that you’re not all that happy working in a funeral parlor.” Georgie brought up, her tone casual, her eyes narrowed. Rudyard glanced frantically around him and realized, with horror, that there was no way out of this conversation. 

He laughed, “I don’t know what you mean, Georgie. What else would I do?” 

“I heard the mayor is paying well to have a new archivist. You should see the basement of the village hall. You would love it. It’s a real mess, you could organize it. Me and Antigone think you should take the job” Georgie offered. 

He frowned at her, paused for a moment. For a split second Georgie really thought she had got him, that this was going to be much easier than she had expected it to be. 

Suddenly he shook his head. “I am not going to be enticed by promises of organization projects! I am perfectly fine!” Then he stormed out the door with a flourish, decidedly not fine. 

Georgie sighed and looked at Madeleine, who was arranging straw in her miniature dresser. Madeleine squeaked sympathetically. 

Meanwhile Rudyard was stomping through the streets of Pifflingvale. He kept walking, pouting the entire way. He was deeply engaged in some sort of bizarre two way argument versus an imaginary person. He did this until he had walked himself all the way to the graveyard. 

He then subsequently fell into an unfilled grave. 

He sat there. And pouted. Then he yelled a little. Shook his fist at the sky. Blamed it on Chapman. Pouted some more. Then finally considered his situation. The graveyard was empty. It was a perfectly lovely afternoon. Rudyard did not want to be at Funn Funerals, god knows Antigone was in on this plan anyways. And concluded that there were significantly worse things than being trapped in an empty grave. 

He turned his attention back to his previous argument. “A new job. Give in? To Chapman? Absolutely not.” He muttered and gestured. 

A voice from above called down, tearing him away from his conversation with himself. 

“Rudyard?” The voice yelled, “Is that you?” 

Rudyard sighed, but didn’t respond. This was his life now, you’d have thought he’d gotten more used to it. But there, like some sort of obnoxious angel, was Eric Chapman. The sun creating a halo around his head. Rudyard wanted to scream. 

‘Why him? Why this? Have I not suffered enough?’ Rudyard thought, ‘First, Antigone and Georgie with their horrible ideas, now Chapman.’

Suddenly he hard a thump next to him. And Rudyard Funn was no longer alone in this unfilled grave. 

“Why are you in a hole, Rudyard?” Eric Chapman asked. 

Rudyard rolled his eyes. “I’m just fine down here, thank you very much, Chapman.” 

Chapman nodded and sat down. “Did you fall?” He said, not much of a question, more an assumption than anything. 

“...yes. I fell.” Came the reply anyways. Rudyard sat down next to him. Then sighed again. It had been a terrible day. 

A silence landed between them. Nervous and uncomfortable. Chapman was expecting Rudyard to say something contrary and witty and was deeply thrown off when he didn’t. 

“Are you okay, Rudyard?” He asked. 

“Antigone and Georgie think that I should take the job as the town archivist.” Rudyard explained. Chapman nodded slowly. 

“Okay. So why aren’t you taking it? I don’t get it.” He questioned, genuinely confused. 

“I couldn’t just stop now! My entire family has worked at Funn Funerals. Generations and generations of Funns. How could I quit now?” Rudyard explained, annoyed and tired. 

Chapman sat up straight, looked directly at Rudyard, then spoke, “I know you hate me, but listen. I have never seen you actually like working as a funeral director. Go do something that will make you happy.” 

Rudyard shook his head. “You’re just trying to take out the competition.” He said making a face. 

Chapman leaned his head against the dirt walls, “God you’re impossible,” he sighed. 

“Aha! So you admit it!” Rudyard accused. Chapman just ignored him. 

They sat in silence like that for a couple of minutes. Rudyard in triumph, Chapman in exasperation. 

Then Rudyard spoke, the victory in his voice fading into something else that Chapman couldn’t place, “What about Antigone? I can’t leave her behind.”

Chapman nodded very seriously. “I’d love to work with her. She’s a much better mortician than I could ever dream of being.” 

Rudyard narrowed his eyes. “Fine. I will consider becoming archivist. But only if you help me out of this damn grave.” 

“Well lucky for you, I brought rope.” Chapman said giving Rudyard his customary cheerful grin. 

Rudyard once again wanted to scream. “Why didn’t you mention that earlier?!” He yelled. 

Chapman’s grin did not fade. “Well we had to do a little soul searching first, right?” 

“Drop dead.” Came the reply. Chapman just laughed in response.


	4. Rudyard

So Rudyard became village archivist. He did so with some guilt and some excitement. But he did it. And Funn Funerals went from being the most hated funeral home in the entire English Channel, to just another weird, old house. 

When later asked about becoming archivist, Rudyard would say something about it being ‘time to move on’ that he must ‘seek his own true calling’. That it had been a ‘gracious switch’. 

Not a single one of those statements was correct. 

Rudyard had complained and cried and been miserable for the few days between when he had agreed to stop the funeral home and when the mayor came back from his honeymoon. 

Antigone had not had as many issues. She missed her old mortuary, but making it her bedroom had solved much of that issue and she did like that Chapman had newer equipment and offered paid leave. Benefits? With a job? Practically unheard of for the Funns, but there it was. She had started her job immediately, much to Rudyard’s dismay. 

The day the mayor returned from his honeymoon, sunburned and looking rather excited. Talking with even more fervor than usual about his dreams to turn this village into a town. Rudyard had walked right into the mayoral office and practically begged to have the job as an archivist. 

The mayor smiled and said, “Of course, dear boy. I was hoping you would ask.” 

So Rudyard was led into the basement of the village hall and stared at a room full of precariously stacked boxes of unorganized files. 

The mayor was talking to him, but Rudyard wans’t listening. He just signed whatever papers given to him, his eyes never leaving the mess in front of him. Rudyard was, for one of the first times in his life, deeply and genuinely excited. 

He started immediately. 

When Eric Chapman walked into the village archives, holding two sandwiches from the only pub in Pifflingvale (which just so happened to be inside his funeral home, but no one needed to know that), he was shocked. 

Chapman was not frequently shocked, but Rudyard humming happily to himself, moving boxes around, while Madeleine worked on her novel on Rudyard’s desk, surprised Chapman. He looked at Rudyard, who was practically glowing. It was the happiest he had ever seen Rudyard without Antigone or Georgie accompanying him. Chapman thought that Rudyard looked beautiful, a thought which threw him off balance for a second, but he recovered. 

Chapman knocked on the wall, announcing his presence. Rudyard looked up and Chapman had an alarming moment where his breath caught in his throat, then he remembered what he was doing and why he was there. 

“Thought you could use some lunch on your first day at the new job.” Chapman offered, Rudyard nodded. 

Chapman dragged a spare chair over, while Rudyard told Madeleine that she should take her lunch break as well. Madeleine let out an affirmative squeak and scampered off. 

“So, how’s it been?” Chapman asked, taking the sandwiches out of the bag. 

“It’s been fantastic. There’s so many years of records! I have to organize them by years first. Then make electronic copies. Some of these records are nearly dust, so digitalizing the older ones is a top priority. Then I can start adding the missing things from the past few years.” Rudyard went on and on, gesturing and eating his sandwich. Chapman was mesmerized, eating his own sandwich and nodding and asking questions when needed. 

Rudyard stopped talking and looked at Chapman. 

Then asked, for perhaps the first time ever, “How was your day?” 

And Chapman told him. Told him that he had a funeral this afternoon. That Antigone says hi. That she likes the amount of options given to make the embalming fluids smell nice. Chapman told Rudyard about how he was worried that the reverend was going to be too happy at the funeral (the mayor and the reverend had not stopped grinning since the honeymoon, despite returning to their jobs). 

And Rudyard listened. Listened well. And enjoyed listening about Chapman’s day. The simpleness of it. He surprised himself that way. 

He surprised them both when he thanked Chapman. “I mean it. Thank you for the lunch.” Rudyard said. Chapman smiled and it was so much more genuine than any smile Rudyard had seen before and Rudyard felt heat rise to his cheeks. 

Chapman left, now thinking of Rudyard. Rudyard went back to work, now thinking of Chapman. 

Madeleine watched them both from the corner. So very unsure of what to make of this, but knowing for a fact that it would make for a very very good addition to her novel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you see here, your honor,,,,i love them


	5. Antigone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter five is kind of a long one :)

Antigone liked working at Chapman’s. More than she expected she would. She liked how much life there was. For a funeral parlor at least. She missed the quiet of her own mortuary, but the excitement that seemed to be inherent to the way Eric Chapman ran his business was growing on her. There was a distinctive joy to it. 

They were more like business partners than anything. Chapman had made that very clear. He would run the business and people end, she would run the medical end. She liked this bargain. Participating in the act of the funerals through the delicate nature of the deceased. Her and her dead bodies. Her and her company. 

It was good. She liked Chapman more now after working with him for a couple of weeks, watching him ever so secretly bring her brother lunch, noting that there was something there that neither Chapman nor her brother were ready to talk about. It was easier to be his friend now that she didn’t have romantic feelings for him. 

Huh. Friend. Antigone had made a friend. So much for lonely torment, right? 

She told him as much the first time he asked her to go pick up a body from the hospital. 

“Thank you for being my friend.” She had said and he had smiled and it looked like he wanted to hug her, but instead he stuck his hand out. She shook it. 

“Thank you for being my business partner.” He had said. 

And it was good. And it was kind. Then Antigone had an experience that changed what she had expected and turned it all topsy turvy. 

She had gone to pick up the body. An elderly woman, one Kathryn Flora. At the time she was the oldest person in Pifflingvale. A fact, on account of her death, was no longer true. Kathryn Flora had long outlived what all had expected of her. Antigone thought that she was going to make her body smell like violets, make her face look kind in death. She went over to the hospital. 

Antigone walked in to see Dr. Edgeware, wobbly on his feet, with the body, waiting. 

Dr. Edgeware looked mildly surprised to see her. 

“Antigone Funn, I thought you were dead.” He said simply, quickly shrugging off his surprise. 

Antigone didn’t mind the doctor actually, found him to be almost handsome at times, in a sort of Mr. Darcy way. He had a charm to him. Awkward and very internal, but there. 

Antigone just smiled lightly, the best that she could. “I hear that a lot.” 

The good doctor just nodded and said, “Well that’s a shame.” and promptly passed out. 

Antigone was blessed with having fast reflexes, largely due to having grown up with Rudyard. She caught the doctor before he could hit the floor. He was light. The doctor was not a short man by any means, not as tall as she was, but not short. Just lighter than she was expecting him to be. 

She had an odd moment then. She looked at his sleeping face and thought he was pretty. Much of the worry gone from his brow. He had lost several years off his life in the simple act of going to sleep. Antigone could only imagine what a full night of sleep would do to the man and felt a rather confusing wave of pity and concern and, god help her, attraction. 

Then she remembered what she was doing and why she was there. “Doctor,” she said and poked his cheek. He didn’t stir. 

“Doctor!” She said more forcibly and his eyes opened. He looked up at her, squinting and confused. 

“Are you an angel?” He asked. Antigone had to hold back a laugh. Antigone Funn, first a ghost, then an angel. It was almost romantic. Did you fall from heaven? 

“No.” She replied. 

He frowned and then muttered, “Drats.” He stood up from where she was supporting him. 

“Terribly sorry about that Miss Funn. I did not get much sleep last night, the Missus Park started her labor at about midnight and the delivery didn’t end until about six this morning” He explained. Antigone nodded. 

“That sounds unfortunate.” She replied. The doctor looked to the side and made a kind of odd face that made Antigone smile. 

“Well, I suppose it was.” He replied and together they loaded the body into the back of the car. 

Driving from the hospital Antigone found herself think of Dr. Edgeware. Witty and handsome when given the chance. She felt a warmth in her stomach much to her dread. Oh good god, she thought, I’m developing feelings for the poor man. 

The second time they met, exchanging a dead body at the hospital doors, Dr. Edgeware told her about the heart failure that his previous patient, now in Antigone’s care, had gone through. She found it fascinating. 

They went through several weeks of this. Dr. Edgeware telling her about the cause of death, Antigone telling him about what will happen after the death, the preparation for the grave. They fit together rather well. 

Antigone found it dreadfully romantic. Meeting secretly behind the hospital, all alone except for the deceased. The feelings for the doctor had not passed, they had actually gotten far, far worse. Much helped by simply spending more time with him. When he told her to call him Henry, she thought she was going to pass out. 

One day, when going to pick up the dead body of Richard Smith, Dr. Edgeware, no, Henry had an odd request for her. 

“Antigone, I have to go away for a conference. I will be gone three days. I was wondering if you could housesit and watch Esther for me?” He had asked her. Antigone looked at him, with his dark eyes and graying hair, she felt like she would do anything for him. This thought scared her. 

“Who’s Esther?” She found herself asking. Henry’s face got a little smile on it. 

“She’s my bird. She’s a parrot and very clever. You will like her very much.” He replied, the smile didn’t fade. 

Antigone nodded. “I would love to meet her.” 

So, just like she said she would, Antigone found herself in an odd little house accompanied by one Doctor Henry Edgeware. 

Antigone had received not one, not two, but three separate pep talks to be able to do this. One very calming one from Georgie, one very frustrated one from Rudyard, and one very encouraging one from Chapman. Despite the efforts of her family and friend (sometimes it felt like Chapman was family too, but she wasn’t ready to bring that up with Georgie and Rudyard), Antigone was horribly nervous. 

There was something so charming and so natural about Henry’s house. It terrified her. The books and the view of the sea. The house was not big, but it felt like a mansion. 

“Esther’s just in here.” Henry said, Antigone followed him cautiously. 

She found herself looking at an exceptionally pretty, exceptionally well taken care of parrot. All in grey and white, with sharp blue eyes. Antigone was mesmerized by Esther. 

“Henry, I’m not sure I’m going to be able to take care of her.” Antigone tried to explain. The good doctor just shrugged. 

“I can’t take her with me. And she gets lonely. Look, she isn’t threatened by you.” He explained. Antigone frowned, but accepted it. She then approached Esther. Slowly and carefully, not making any direct eye contact. Esther stayed calm. 

Antigone then got to learn how to pick up Esther and help her take baths. Henry explained to her that Esther was very good tempered, but a bit of a talker and liked company. She enjoyed when you ate meals in the same room as her and told her about your day. Antigone received a pretty small checklist of things to do to take care of the pretty parrot entrusted to her and a house key and that was that. 

Antigone now found herself in Dr. Edgeware’s cottage overlooking the sea and she felt overwhelmed. The house screamed him. The coffee maker and the guest bedroom she stayed in. It was remarkable. ‘Houses are like that,’ she thought to herself, ‘real, desirable, tangible portions of ourselves.’ She went into the spare bedroom and went to sleep. 

The next morning, when she walked into Chapman’s funeral parlor there was chaos. 

She found Eric in the middle of it trying to calm the people around him. She tapped his shoulder. 

“Eric, what’s happening?” She asked. He somehow heard her above the noises around them. 

“Dr. Edgeware left the island! There’s no doctor at the hospital!” He yelled. Antigone nodded.

“Don’t worry. Henry will be back in about three days.” She told Chapman, “You should fill in as doctor. You’ll be fine.” Then she walked down into her new mortuary, leaving Chapman behind her. 

The next three days on Pifflingvale were very exciting for all the occupants but one. Pifflingvale missed its doctor, despite the training of Eric Chapman. Georgie and Rudyard would’ve been fine, except for that Rudyard dropped an entire box full of records on his foot and insisted it was broken. He then ignored Georgie telling him that he was fine, demanded that he be taken to the hospital, had been doted on by Chapman, and proceeded to complain about his foot for the rest of the day. 

Unlike Georgie, Rudyard, Chapman, and the rest of Pifflingvale, Antigone had several very pleasant, almost boring days. 

The second afternoon in Henry’s house she had talked to Esther about how her day had gone and went to have dinner with Georgie and Rudyard (they had pasta, it was one of the few things they could all agree on to eat). She returned to the house to a phone call. 

The doctor’s telephone was an antique, black, bulky oddity that Antigone was deeply charmed by up until the point where it started ringing. 

She picked it up cautiously. “Dr. Edgeware’s residence. He isn’t home right now.” She said. 

“Oh, Antigone! It’s me. It’s Henry,” Antigone heard his voice and relaxed. “God, I am so glad to hear a familiar voice. I forgot how large everything is on the mainland. How have you been?” He continued. 

She laughed a little. “You’d think there’d been a nuclear explosion. The town’s in chaos.” 

She heard a quiet mutter on the other end of the receiver she couldn’t make out. “That doesn’t surprise me. How are you, though?” Henry asked and Antigone felt a blush rise to her cheeks. Henry Edgeware asked about her, not the town, not Esther, nothing else. Just her. 

“I’m fine. Your guest room is lovely. I’ve been reading Wuthering Heights to Esther.” She told him, trying to fight off the nervousness. This crush had grown much more prevalent than she wanted it to. 

“I’m glad to hear. She’s always had a taste for Brontë. Esther is doing well, then?” Henry asked, relief palpable in his voice. Antigone found him dreadfully sweet. It was a little astonishing, to be plain. 

Antigone nodded, then remembered that this was a telephone conversation. “Yes, Esther is very well. She is going to get a bath the night after tomorrow night and has been very well behaved.” 

They continued on like that for about thirty minutes. He told her about the conference. That there was a good chance that there would be more doctors. She leaned into his excitement, it made her smile. This crush had gottten out of control, grown into something so looming and present in her life. She loved it. 

That night she read the third chapter of Wuthering Heights to Esther. Heathcliff, who was truly terrible, and his poor, obnoxious neighbor. Catherine and every other miserable occupant of this book. Antigone adored it. It was a humorous book, really. She had been fond of it for a long time.

As Antigone slept, she dreamt of Henry. Dancing with him in a storm, the feeling of the rain, the drama of it. She woke up and sat straight up in bed. Surrounded by the realness of the house and of it all. She thought about crying from joy, from frustration, from relief. Romantic love, she thought to herself, this may be love. It is so much bigger and louder then they make it out to be in the stories. She shoved the blanket over her head, rolled over, and went back to sleep.


	6. Antigone

Antigone Funn possessed many odd talents. Giving overly clever, remarkably charming parrots baths had just been added to aforementioned list. 

Antigone found herself sitting on the floor of Henry’s bathroom watching Esther splash in the water. 

“I’m jealous of you. It looks nice in there.” She said. Esther didn’t reply, just kept washing herself. Antigone looked around the bathroom. It was nice and simple, blue hand towels, a gray shower curtain, a book of poetry on the toilet. 

“It’s so odd being here. In this house. At least it’s odd without Henry here. I feel like I’m living out the steps to an alternate life,” Antigone said to the distracted bird. “Maybe this is my alternate life. I’m a circus clown married to the only doctor on the island. We own you together and I read you Emily Dickinson poems every night.” 

Esther squawked. Antigone looked down at her. 

“Done with your bath, then?” Antigone asked. Esther made another sound, Antigone took it as affirmation and helped the bird out of the bathtub. 

Antigone let Esther get dried off and then she pulled the plug on the bath. She and Esther watched the water spiral down the drain together. 

“Chapter four. Then to bed?” Antigone asked to the bird. She didn’t get a response, but she wasn’t really expecting one. 

So she and Esther followed their routine. The first night had been the roughest. But by the third night they had gotten used to each other. 

They read. They went to bed. 

Antigone woke up to the sound of her alarm. A soft sounding thing she had had for years. She took it with her everywhere. Mornings could be difficult for her. She sat up in bed slowly and listened to the sounds of the house. A habit she had grown from living at the residence formerly known as Funn Funerals. Old houses were like that. Then it occurred to her. The house she was in was not an old house. And somebody was in the kitchen. 

She took several deep breaths, trying to stop the panicking. She swore at herself, she couldn’t believe that she was going to try and fight an intruder in her nightgown with her hair still braided for the night. Antigone grabbed the bluntest object she could find and left the room. 

Antigone had never fought off an intruder, she was unsure if there was etiquette that she should follow. She entered the kitchen and yelled, “I have a weapon! Leave this place!” 

“Is that my lamp?” Came a voice from inside the kitchen. Antigone grinned. 

“Yes, it’s your lamp. Jesus, a little warning would be nice next time.” She said to Henry. He smiled back at her. 

“I am glad to know that you’re ready to defend my house.” Henry said and then sighed, there was such relief in his voice. “Antigone, I’m so glad to see you.” Antigone felt as if she might melt on the spot. 

Antigone Funn possessed many gifts, as we know. She had not thought prophecy one of them, but she was reconsidering that for she had been so very right about Henry Edgeware. The man had gotten three full nights of sleep and looked as if he had lost twenty years off his age. He was beautiful in his restfulness. 

Antigone found herself asking the question before she could even realize what had come out of her mouth. “Can I hug you?” 

Henry just nodded, surprised in a pleasant way. He then enfolded himself around her. She found herself burying her face into his shoulder. Her in her nightgown with messy hair, him in his wrinkled shirt and twice worn trousers. He was so solid and real and tangible. She felt Henry’s chest heave and realized that he was crying. 

They pulled away and he laughed, brushing away the tears. 

“There is going to be another doctor on Pifflingvale.” He said and there was such joy and such relief behind it. Antigone laughed with him. Laughed at the hilarity and the hope and the love of it all. 

They both calmed down some. “Can I get you something?” Henry asked. Antigone shook her head. 

“I need to get changed. I’ll be back.” She replied and walked away. When back in her room, Antigone let all the emotions crash down over her. Love, she thought. Love, love, love. She laughed to herself and got ready for the day. 

They sat there together. Miss Funn and Doctor Edgeware. A comfortable silence sitting around them. Henry sipping his coffee, Antigone making her toast. 

“Chapman did alright at the hospital?” Henry asked, finding himself without any other words. 

Antigone smiled. “Oh no. He was miserable, but there were no fatalities that could’ve been prevented.” 

“You two are sweet. You and Chapman. You make a good couple.” Henry said. Antigone choked on her drink., then began to laugh. 

“You think I’m dating Eric Chapman?” She asked. Henry looked confused. 

“You aren’t?” He said, clearly lost. 

“God no! That would be disgusting.” Antigone said, still giggling. “Not to mention that he’s head over heels for my brother, I swear he’s five seconds to proposing to him at any time. It’s ridiculous.” 

Henry sat there, dumbfounded. A look of realization came over him. Antigone watched him closely. 

“You’re not dating Chapman?” Henry asked. 

Antigone fought off a laugh. “Yes.” She said. It was sweet watching the puzzle pieces fall together in real time. 

“So you’re single.” He said, gesturing with his hands. 

“Yes, I am single.” Antigone confirmed. 

“Oh my god I could’ve asked you out this entire time.” Henry said and slumped against the counter. 

Antigone froze. “You want to ask me out?” She asked. 

“Who wouldn’t want to ask you out? You’re amazing. I mean, good god, I’ve been wasting all this time.” Henry said, pacing around the kitchen. “Oh, Antigone, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to assume anything. Would go out with me?” 

Antigone nodded. “Yes, I would love to.” She said. 

“Really?” Henry said. Antigone was entranced by him at that moment, found him so beautiful in his sincerity and care that it enveloped her. 

“Really. I would very much like to go on a date with you.” Antigone said. Henry smiled wide. 

It looked to the both of them that there was going to be a seemingly long awaited date in their futures. Neither of them could wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ask me how much i know about parrot care. (hint: it’s one Wikipedia article worth.)


	7. Jennifer

Jennifer Delacroix was a charming young woman. The host, owner, and producer of the only radio station on Piffling. She was competent and well to do. She was also terribly nervous. She didn’t have much logic behind the nervousness when she thought about it. Mostly considered it was misfortune, faulty genetics, and an overactive imagination (and really, you never know if they are actually out to get you). 

Other than being anxious, she had a fairly normal life. She isolated herself a bit, she supposed. That’s what her mother had always told her. It wasn’t like she was there to tell her anymore, but it’s the thought that counts. Jennifer liked to imagine her mother away somewhere, perhaps with the reverend’s maybe there maybe not god, pointing down at her going ‘Oh, that’s my daughter! She needs to get out more.’ 

It was comforting, despite how judgmental her mother appeared in her mind. The idea that some things never changed. Jennifer was happy. She liked her life. Her and her cat and her radio and her people watching. 

That was one of the other things about Jennifer Delacroix, she was a chronic people watcher and damn good at it too. She told herself that it made her a good reporter. She was likely right on that front. 

That was how she found herself at a booth on a Saturday night at Chapman’s pub watching two largely unnoticed individuals on their first date. She tried not to stare at Antigone Funn and Henry Edgeware, but their happiness had changed the atmosphere in the room. They were so nervous and sweet. It made her smile. ‘Oh, young love,’ she thought before she remembered that they were both older than her and she herself was only in her mid twenties. 

She was so caught up in her thoughts that she almost missed the person who sat down across from her at the booth. 

Jennifer turned to find herself face to face with a poorly disguised Georgie Crusoe. 

“Hi, Jennifer.” She said and grinned. Jennifer felt a wave of anxiety, then a wave of joy. Georgie sat there in a bad wig that failed to cover her curls and a pair of cheap sunglasses, a notebook in hand. She looked ridiculous and Jennifer loved it. 

“Not that I’m unhappy to see you, but what are you doing?” Jennifer asked. 

Georgie whipped off the sunglasses like she was in an action movie. “I’m spying on Antigone and the doctor.” 

“Okay.” Jennifer said, “Am I your cover?” Georgie’s eyes seemed to light up. 

“Do you want to be?” Georgie asked. Jennifer nodded. And together they plotted. 

Jennifer Delacroix was several interesting things, she had great diction, and a habit of talking like a news reporter in social situations. She was clever as well and despite her best efforts, understood the appeal of being in on a scheme. 

She had also been harboring feelings for Georgie Crusoe since Georgie had arrived on Piffling. 

So, naturally, without a doubt, she was prepared to be in on this plan with Georgie. 

They set up a plan. The cover was this: They were meeting up for a nice dinner, a date if anyone asked. Georgie would sit across from Jennifer so that it would look like she was talking to her, but would be watching Antigone and Dr. Edgeware. Georgie could not let herself be seen by Antigone, so they made sure that Antigone had her back turned to Georgie. It was all set up. Jennifer had even helped George adjust the wig so it fit her head better. 

This plan was absolutely perfect. Except Georgie Crusoe had immediately gotten distracted by having a conversation with Jennifer. 

They had always been on friendly terms, especially since Georgie had started working for the mayor. Georgie looked across the table, over Jennifer’s shoulder. Then back at Jennifer and she was fascinated. Jennifer’s eyes and her twitching hands and her smile, and Georgie couldn’t really look away. Yes, Jennifer was attractive, and yes Georgie was aware of that, but she had never had the time or space to try and romance her. Georgie looked at Jennifer and thought, ‘Why don’t I have the time? What in gods name is stopping me?’ 

So, she spoke. “You’re nervous.” 

“Yes, um, I tend to be. I’m sorry-“ Jennifer started. 

“Don’t be. Nervousness is natural.” Georgie interrupted. 

Jennifer drummed her fingers against the table, Georgie watched. “I always thought nervousness was funny like that. My body thinks that I could die. And I suppose it’s not wrong, y’know? I could be dying. For all I know you could have a gun under the table and shoot me and pull off your wig to reveal a mysterious murderer and escape into the night.” Jennifer said. Georgie had almost entirely forgotten Antigone and Dr. Edgeware by this point. 

Georgie laughed. “Now who told you that? I could’ve sworn I made them all promise to keep it a secret.”

“Don’t joke.” Jennifer said. “You do remember the mayor’s last assistant.”

Georgie sighed. “God, yes, I do.” 

“There’s a lot of death on Piffling. Sometimes I think the island is cursed.” Jennifer said. Georgie just nodded. 

“Death’s like that. It’s cosmic for those left behind.” Georgie replied, Jennifer watched her closely. She knew that Georgie’s Nana had died, someone deeply important to her. Jennifer watched the shift in her expression. 

“Yes, but fortunately neither of us are dead. And you are not going to murder me. Thank our lucky stars for that.” Jennifer said. Georgie smiled and Jennifer was glad to see it. 

“You keep saying I’m not a murderer like you can prove it.” Georgie said, “I think that I could do Eric Chapman in.” 

Jennifer noded solemnly. “I’m very sure you could. How is the date going?” 

“To be honest I’m not sure why I came here in the first place. The doctor’s a nice man. He makes her happy. The Funns and their happiness, god knows they deserve it.” Georgie reflected. 

Jennifer’s people watching skills felt very handy at that moment. Georgie had such strong emotions lined across her face. Jennifer found it charming at times, but sometimes reading into the levels of frustration and sadness was devastating. How much pain can this woman carry? How much can she ignore by taking care of others?

They talked more. It was good. Georgie was very direct in all she said, very reassuring. Jennifer felt herself begin to relax. Sometimes when she spent too much time alone she would forget how nice it was to be with another like this, the gentle happiness of it. This evening with Georgie Crusoe had reminded Jennifer that people meant something and that something was connected to her. 

She walked home that night. Petted her cat. Calamity Jane, her mother had named that cat. It had been her mothers and now it was hers. She looked at the cat and they both crawled into bed and went to sleep. Jennifer could hear Georgie in her head as she dozed off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want more wlw content from this fandom so bad, even if I have to do it myself


	8. Jennifer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Years!

Jennifer woke up that morning confused. The first time since her mother had passed away that she had slept the night all the way through. It was an odd experience, the restfulness of it mixed with the worry. Her alarm going off at six, but no cat waking her up at five demanding to be fed. 

Jennifer sat up and looked at Calamity Jane asleep at the foot of the bed.

“You alright Janie?” She asked and nudged the cat with her foot. Nothing. Then Jennifer realized why. She sighed and laid back down in bed. 

She stared up at the ceiling. Her cat was dead. Her mother was dead. There was nothing tying her to this god forsaken island. She could leave. Go on adventures, see the world. Be anywhere but here. 

Jennifer tried to imagine herself elsewhere. In Rome or Paris or Moscow. And it felt lonely. Crushingly and horribly lonely. Jennifer Delacroix was lonely. She looked at Calamity Jane and felt exhausted. Then she felt relief. Overwhelming relief. The last of her mother was dead. 

She picked up the cat and set her down gently into a spare box that she covered and placed outside the house. Jennifer would deal with her after work. 

She started up her radio and ran her seven o’clock news, just like she did every day. She ran the music. She ran the traffic. She read and spoke and prepared. Jennifer considered herself lucky for that. With the mayors help (all towns have a radio station), she was able to do her radio work for a living. 

Jennifer thought of her dead cat. In a box. Sitting outside her house. What was once her mother’s house. ‘Schrödinger,’ she thought, ‘me and the cat. Maybe dead, maybe alive.’ And Jennifer knew what she had to do to be rid of what was left of her mother. 

So Jennifer Delacroix found herself doing something brave. When one lives with anxiety everything you do is, to an extent, brave. But at that moment she did something exceptionally brave: Jennifer knocked on the back door to the mortuary. 

Antigone Funn opened the door, looking annoyed, her mouth opened like she was about to speak, but stopped when she saw Jennifer. This was not who she was expecting to see. 

“This is, um, oh Jesus, this is going to sound weird. Can you embalm my cat?” Jennifer asked before she could think better of it. Anything left of Antigone’s annoyance seemed to wash away. 

“Yes. I- yes. I will embalm your cat.” Antigone said and let Jennifer inside. 

Jennifer had never been inside a mortuary before. She decided it best not to look too closely. So, instead she turned and looked at Antigone who was peering at her oddly. 

“I won’t make you pay full price. Is a hundred dollars okay?” Antigone asked. 

Jennifer nodded. “A hundred dollars is great. Thank you for this.” 

Antigone smiled and took the box from Jennifer, then got to work. 

Jennifer stood there. Feeling awkward and out of place before she sat down on the ground. It was cold tile. It felt comforting in its realness. 

Jennifer took a deep breath and spoke, “Is it okay if I stay?” She asked. Antigone froze. 

“I don’t think anyone’s asked to stay before. No one besides for Henry.” Antigone said, then remembered that she had been asked a question. “Yes, please. I would like company.” 

Jennifer smiled at her. “Who’s Henry?” She found herself asking. Antigone’s face lit up. 

“Henry, I mean, Dr. Edgeware. He’s, oh, he’s so lovely.” Antigone replied. Jennifer thought it was sweet. She once again felt like an old man watching young lovers. 

“I was meaning to talk to you, Jennifer, is it?” Antigone said. Jennifer felt a jolt of adrenaline. 

Jennifer nodded. “Yes, that’s me.” 

“Good,” Antigone said. “You are more important than you realize, Jennifer. Now I do not know you very well and I certainly cannot think as to why you need an embalmed cat but I do know this: you made Georgie laugh.” 

Jennifer sat there watching Antigone talk. She no longer felt like an old man. She felt so terribly young, sitting cross legged on the floor of the mortuary, Antigone telling her something that she could tell was important. 

“You made Georgie laugh harder than I have seen her laugh since her Nana passed.” Antigone continued, “I owe you for that. Me and my brother both do. Georgie is not as good at disguises as she thinks she is and I saw you, last night. You were happy and she was happy. That meant something.” 

Then Jennifer realized just exactly what Antigone Funn was telling her. And it made sense. 

“I see it too.” Jennifer told Antigone. “Georgie’s sadness. She cares for you and Rudyard a lot. You are okay with me being apart of her life if she wants me to be?” 

Antigone laughed a little then. “There isn’t a living person in this universe who could make Georgie do anything she doesn’t want to. She wants you in her life. It does not matter what Rudyard and I think. But just in case it does, we think you should ask her out to dinner.” 

“I will.” Jennifer replied. “But first I have to bury this cat.” Antigone’s eyebrows raised. She was like her brother and like Georgie in that way. They held so much emotion in their faces. No wall to stop them from expressing exactly how they felt. 

“I hope she has a good funeral. What was her name?” Antigone asked. 

“Calamity Jane. Like the sharpshooter. She was my mother’s and I’m gonna bury Jane with her.” Jennifer said confidently, then faltered. “Can I do that legally?” 

Antigone shrugged. “Does it matter?” 

They stayed like that for a long while. Antigone working. Jennifer sitting there. It was nice. Jennifer had made a friend and she was very proud of it. Antigone was kind and loving in a subtle, entirely Antigone Funn way. Jennifer found her to be lovely company. 

Jennifer listened to Antigone talk about Georgie and Rudyard and Chapman and she got it. She understood then. They mattered to each other. They meant something. She listened to Antigone talk about her Henry. The affection there, the hope, the longing. It was beautiful. Jennifer understood. People meant something and that something was real. 

She buried her cat that night. The moon high in the sky. The stars visible. The light of them seared into her mind. She looked at her hands as she shoveled the dirt away. Her mother did not have hands. Her cat did not have a voice. But she did. She was alive. She existed. She meant something to others. 

She buried that cat next to her mother’s coffin. She spat on it. Then she cried on it. Then she worked at putting the dirt back on top of it. Jennifer realized that loneliness can swallow someone whole. She didn’t want that to happen to herself. 

Jennifer looked up at the sky and she wanted to scream. She decided that screaming was probably not for the best, but that yelling would do. 

“I’m done! No more! I am going to be happy goddammit! I am going to be safe! I am going to ask the pretty girl to go out with me! I’ve done it!!” She yelled, shaking her shovel at the moon. 

A voice came out of the darkness, making Jennifer jump. “Are you one of those crazy people? Like in the movies?” Rudyard Funn asked, walking out of the darkness, holding a flashlight. 

“Oh good god.” Jennifer said, trying to catch her breath after the fright. “I should think you’re the crazy one for going out on a walk at night like this.” 

Rudyard looked astounded. “I am not! At least I’m not digging up someone’s grave.” He retorted. 

“In my defense, I’m not digging up the grave. I’m putting the dirt back.” Jennifer argued back at him. She suddenly remembered that she was talking to someone at night and that was a cause for alarm. “You’re not going to kill me, are you? Like you’re not some murderer, right?”

“Don’t be preposterous. I’m no murderer.” Rudyard said, sounding offended even. “You remember the mob, I’d be a terrible criminal.” 

Jennifer then looked more closely at Rudyard Funn. He looked content really, if a little alarmed. Entirely pleased to be on a midnight stroll. 

“Well, since you’re here, I’m burying my cat with my mother. It’s a way to grieve.” Jennifer explained. Rudyard raised his eyebrows, Jennifer noted that he and his sister did it in the same exact way. 

“Ah, so you are insane.” He said. Jennifer rolled her eyes. 

“Well if I’m so crazy then why haven’t you left yet, Rudyard Funn? The least you can do is help me.” Jennifer sighed. “I have a spare shovel.” 

He looked at her crossly and picked up the shovel. 

“How do you know my name?” Rudyard asked her. 

“I know everyone’s name.” Jennifer said. Rudyard narrowed his eyes suspiciously at her. 

“You’re Jennifer Delacroix, aren’t you. Georgie’s Jennifer.” Rudyard said. “Oh god, how am I supposed to tell her that she fancies a madwoman?” 

Jennifer felt heat rise to her cheeks, but she ignored it. “If I’m mad, then why are you helping me? Hm? Grow strong for Chapman?” 

Rudyard froze and raised the shovel defensively against his chest. “How do you know about that?” 

“A lot of people know. You should just ask him on a date like a normal person. He’s very into you.” Jennifer told him. People watchers and good listeners tend to pick up on things like that. 

“Fine, then maybe you should just ask Georgie on a date instead of mooning over her like you have been for the past year.” Rudyard said and made a face. 

“Your sister told me just the same thing earlier this evening. How did you know about that anyways?” Jennifer responded. 

Rudyard just shrugged. “I watch people. Easier than talking to them.” 

Jennifer smiled. “I do the same thing.” She considered that, to an extent, they were both professional story tellers. A radio host and an archivist. Preservers of what was and what is. No wonder they both liked to watch, but not participate. 

Rudyard sighed. “Yet we both ended up attracted to two of the most sociable people on this island.” 

“In the whole damn channel, I’d say.” Jennifer corrected. 

“Yes, yes. Now, I think that’s done.” Rudyard said, standing back and surveying the dirt filled grave. “Can I interest you in a cup of tea?” 

Which is how Jennifer Delacroix found herself at (the house formerly known as) Funn Funerals, drinking a cup of sleepy time tea with Antigone and Rudyard Funn. 

She felt rather proud of herself, to be honest. She had lost a cat, had buried said cat, had gotten rid of the last of her mother, realized that she was unhappy, made steps towards becoming happier, had made plans to ask someone on a date, and had made two (new!) friends. All in one night. 

Jennifer liked the Funns oddly enough. She had never had a distaste for them in quite the same way that it seemed much of the island did. People could just be difficult to talk to, these twins especially. She considered it was a shame that she hadn’t talked to them before. They were both very distinctly endearing in entirely their own ways. 

“This is nice.” Rudyard said. Antigone nodded. Jennifer couldn’t help but agree, it was nice. Then the front door swung open. 

Georgie Crusoe walked in and froze upon seeing who was seated around the kitchen table. Something about Rudyard, Antigone, and Jennifer peering up at her, Madeleine’s tiny teacup, and Timmy laying on the floor under Jennifer’s chair, it surprised her in its simple intimacy and comfort. 

“Hello you lot. Am I interrupting something?” Georgie asked, now realizing just exactly who was there. Three people who were perhaps too willing to participate in schemes. 

“Oh no, Georgie, I was meaning to ask you something.” Jennifer said. She had made a decision to be braver earlier that evening and she was prepared to act upon that. 

Antigone knew just what that meant. “Rudyard and I were just headed upstairs. No worries.” She said and grabbed Rudyard’s arm. Antigone then dragged her brother away, despite his protestations about his tea, hissing at him to shut up the entire way. Madeleine and Timmy followed behind them. 

Then it was just Georgie and Jennifer. 

“Hi.” Jennifer said, the nervousness and fear behind her question catching up to her. 

“Hi. I hope they didn’t scare you off.” Georgie said, gesturing up the stairs towards where the Funns were no doubt eavesdropping.

“They weren’t. I rather like them, actually.” Jennifer said, which made Georgie smile. 

Jennifer took a deep breath, Georgie looked at her oddly. “Would you like to go out with me for coffee?” She asked. Georgie’s smile just got bigger. 

“Yes. That sounds great.” She replied. 

And they looked at each other. ‘No more loneliness, no more isolation, no more hiding, no more grieving.’ Jennifer thought. ‘I want to live.’ 

And so she did just that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jennifer Delacroix gives me holes in the heel of stockings and ink stains type vibes. also if you see me projecting onto her no you did not.


	9. Eric

Eric Chapman was the most popular person in Pifflingvale. Some unnamed ex business rivals had the theory that, if given the chance, Eric Chapman could become the most popular person on the entire planet. 

Despite this popularity, Eric Chapman was a bit of an emotional recluse. Eric liked to tell himself that he didn’t do it on purpose. That this distance was simply because he didn’t want to alarm anybody by talking about things they didn’t want to hear. But it was more than that. Eric Chapman was terrified to be seen as anything other than perfect. He had a distinct fear of being real. And this fear made him terribly lonely. 

Then he had the great fortune of meeting three of the most purposefully adversarial people to walk the face of the earth. It took him several months to realize that he had never wanted anything more than to be loved in the same way Rudyard, Antigone, and Georgie were. The recognition of all your flaws and still being liked for them. It was such an absurd concept to him. He was fascinated. 

They were annoying and endearing in their own right and Chapman was absurdly fond of them, even at the beginning. But suddenly things had changed. He pinpointed the root of this change as Georgie. Eric worked in a business that dealt with death, he knew that grief changed people’s outlooks. The death of Georgie’s Nana had been a wakeup for her. Eric had watched her move in with the Funns. Then Antigone coming to work with him. And then Rudyard. There was so much he saw about Rudyard. 

Eric Chapman was not illogical. He was quite proud of his ability to keep calm in stressful situations, but he was not prepared for those changes. Rudyard Funn, the archivist, the contrarian, the hermit come to destroy him and his business, come to eat Eric Chapman’s heart right out of his chest. He was, unfortunately, against all things he could have planned for, mesmerized with Rudyard Funn. 

Which is how Jennifer Delacroix found herself being interrupted on an otherwise quiet Tuesday evening by an unexpected visitor. 

The doorbell rang. Jennifer set down her knitting (a habit she had recently picked up, she found it very calming) and opened the door. 

There stood a frantic looking Eric Chapman. 

“Jennifer!” He yelled and grabbed her by the shoulders. 

“Good god, Eric, are you alright?” She asked, looking confused, but mostly concerned. 

“Rudyard. I can’t get him out of my head. He’s plotting something. I just know it.” Chapman said, pacing around the entryway to Jennifer’s house. She watched him and nodded slowly, thought ‘Sure, fine, this can happen today.’ And closed the door. 

Jennifer made Eric sit down at her kitchen table. 

“Are you sure that’s why you can’t get Rudyard out of your head? Can you think of any other reason?” Jennifer asked. This surprised her. She had expected this sort of represion and panic from Rudyard, but not from Eric. It was funny, really. Rudyard had been so calm and so resigned about his feelings, he already viewed it as a lost cause. But Eric was terrified. 

Chapman shook his head. “I know that Rudyard and I have been getting closer, but I wouldn’t put it past him to seek final revenge.” 

Jennifer took a deep breath and understood that this was how she was going to be spending a good bit of her remaining day. “God, you can be ridiculous.” She muttered. 

Chapman looked a little afffronted, but mostly surprised. “Jennifer, I thought we were closer than that.” 

It was true, they were pretty good friends. Chapman had a certain fondness for the radio host, he found her to be witty and calming company. 

“We are. That’s why I get to call you that.” Jennifer replied, “I am also dating Georgie Crusoe. So, yes, you’re being ridiculous.” 

Chapman smiled. “Aw, you are? That’s cute. I’m glad you two worked it out.” 

“Not the point, Eric.” Jennifer said and pointed a finger at him. (The decision to start being braver and to do and act in the way that she had wanted had been a real game changer for Jennifer.) “What am I supposed to do about your inability to get Rudyard out of your head?” 

“You watch people. If anyone would know about a scheme, it would be you.” Eric explained. This was true. Jennifer had been unfortunately aware of several of Rudyard’s failed plans in the past. 

“There is no scheme that I know of. You really can’t think of a single other reason why you’re thinking about Rudyard a lot? Not a single one?” Jennifer really wanted Eric to figure this out. She knew he wasn’t this dumb, it just hadn’t fully occurred to him yet. 

“No? Why else would I?” Eric asked. Jennifer had to hold back a laugh. 

“Well, there’s no scheme that I know of Mr. Chapman, but you best watch Rudyard very closely.” Jennifer told him putting on a serious air. “You never know what he’s up to.” 

Eric Chapman nodded. “I feel bad about thinking suspiciously of my friend. But I don’t know what else it could be.” 

Jennifer was not a religious woman, but this may be the last straw. She looked up to the sky and took a deep breath. She reminded herself that loving Georgie involved loving or at least tolerating the things that came with her. 

“I’m sure it’ll be fine, Eric.” Jennifer said and patted him on the arm in a way she hoped was reassuring. “Now would you like to stay for dinner? Or do you have some other Rudyard related emergency to attend to?” 

So they had dinner together. They had crockpot stew and oven cooked rolls. Eric was happy for Jennifer. He used to worry about her, at least to the best he could worry about someone considering how busy his life was. But she seemed so much happier. Georgie had been good for her and she had been good for Georgie. 

He left and went to his funeral home and went to bed. He thought of Rudyard as he went to sleep. Rudyard’s face, the little freckles on his nose, the way he narrowed his eyes when he was thinking of something, the way his fingers twitched. Eric just knew that he must be up to something. 

Eric didn’t actually get to see him until the next day at lunch. It was a Wednesday. He and Rudyard always had lunch on Wednesdays. This was not a spoken of tradition, just something that had become part of both of their lives. To miss out on a Wednesday lunch would be a heinous act, so Chapman packed a bag and went to the Village Hall. 

He reminded himself to watch for suspicious activity as he walked down into the basement. Eric opened the door to the archives, saw Rudyard, and immediately forgot what he was trying to remember. 

Rudyard was just sitting there, taking photos of old documents, simply doing his job. And Eric Chapman could not look away. The way he hummed and smiled lightly to himself, engrossed in his work, and content in doing so. Chapman took a deep breath and knocked on the wall, the same way he had done since that first Wednesday. 

Rudyard looked up. “Chapman!” He said, no more hostility, even a certain fondness in it. Rudyard walked over and cleared the desk. Madeleine looked up from her little chair that Rudyard had made in a dull moment of time a couple of weeks ago. 

“Hello, Madeleine.” Chapman said and gave her a piece of cheese. 

And they had lunch together. Customary and simple. Something easy. Something that brought them joy. Eric felt his heart race, his palms sweat, he wondered if he was dying. Maybe he was allergic to the dust in the archives? Chapman decided he would talk to the doctor after lunch. 

Eric Chapman looked at Rudyard and felt that knot in his stomach. A fear. A hope. His breath caught in his throat. His cheeks reddened. It felt desperate. 

Which is how Antigone Funn had another date with Henry Edgeware interrupted by one of her (chosen) family members. 

Eric Chapman ran into the cafe they were in and skidded to a stop in front of the table. 

“Doctor!” He said, clearly alarmed. “I think I am having an allergic reaction.” 

Antigone wanted to scream. To tear her hair out. Dr. Edgeware simply looked at Eric, caring for others was his job after all , and asked, “Are you in immediate danger of being harmed?” 

“Well, no. But every time I am in the archives with Rudyard my throat tightens and I feel all warm and it’s been driving mad. Do you think there’s a problem?” Chapman replied. 

Henry Edgeware did not reply. He simply rubbed the heels of his palms against his eyes. He still did not get paid enough for what this job put him through. Antigone, on the other hand, did reply. 

She grabbed Chapman by the collar of where she was sitting and dragged him down to her eye level. “Eric,” she said, almost sweeetly. “I am going to kill you. You know what that is? Do you know what you are experiencing every time you are with Rudyard?” She paused clearly waiting for Chapman to reply. 

“...allergies?” He offered. 

“A crush!” She yelled at him. “You have a crush! Now leave before I stab your eye out with my fork and tenderly feed it to my date! Understood?!” 

Chapman nodded and she let go of his collar and he left that good establishment as fast as he possibly could. He was so engrossed in this newfound revelation that he didn’t notice Henry leaning across the table to Antigone to tell her just how (alarmingly) attractive he found that particular display of anger. 

Eric Chapman’s head was reeling and he had to find Rudyard. 

He was careful with emotions. That’s what Eric told himself. He had a good head on his shoulders and he used it as he should. But, surprisingly, against everything he had expected, he had fallen in love, or at least what he felt was love, with Rudyard Funn. 

It felt desperate. Poetic even. Running through the streets of Pifflingvale that way. Finding his way back to the village hall. But really, what was Eric Chapman if not a fortunate pile of romcom tropes? 

It was all so so much. He rounded the corner and saw him. Rudyard was just standing there. Eric felt it all catch up around him. Months of repression and longing disguised as rivalry and it crashed around him and he looked at Rudyard. Did he know that he was loved? Did he know that he meant something?

He ran up to Rudyard and stopped in front of him. Chapman was fit, but he had not done a lot of running. The fear came back with the pause in adrenaline. What if he said no? Then a somehow even more shocking thought: what if he said yes?

Rudyard looked at Chapman, confused mostly, but worried too. “Are you alright?” He asked to the slumped over man in front of him who was trying to catch his breath. 

“Yes. Rudyard, I’m-“ Then he paused, collected himself, no more stuttering, no more waiting. “Can I kiss you?”

Rudyard looked at him, stricken, almost wounded. “You want to kiss me?” He asked, a certain tinge of wonder to it. 

“I want to kiss you.” Chapman affirmed and Rudyard looked down at him oddly, then smiled. 

“Oh. Well, yes. Yes, you can kiss me.” Rudyard replied with a shyness and hesitancy that felt uncharacteristic. And Chapman listened to the confirmation and reached up and kissed him. 

And Rudyard tasted warm, and his lips were chapped and Eric Chapman felt wholly and alarming enamored. He pulled away and they were so close, closer than they’d ever been before. Eric could see every single one of those freckles, like little stars. 

Then Rudyard turned on one heel and ran away. Leaving a confused, maybe a little heartbroken, Eric Chapman behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapman believes in the power of emotional denial and you know what? I’m jealous


	10. Eric

Eric Chapman could deal with many things. He was a grown adult. One of those things was heartbreak. 

So he accepted Rudyard running away as rejection. That was fine. Rudyard was competent and could express his emotions and Eric had to respect that. So Chapman went home. Then he let himself cry for a little while, wiped his eyes, and remembered that he had funerals to arrange. 

So he turned his gaze from his own internal workings to the village. And this was fine. Until he found flowers on his doorstep. 

They were at his doorstep specifically. Not the one to the funeral home or the mortuary. Just his. They were wildflowers, handpicked, tied with a ribbon. Eric looked at them and smiled. He picked them up to find there was a note underneath on a piece of yellow paper. 

“Roses are red. Violets are blue. You may stink, but I love you.” 

It made him laugh a little. Something about the tiny heart underneath and the messy handwriting and the insult in the note. It was charming. 

Chapman was a popular guy (as he was continually reminded of) and had his fair share of admirers. He was a little used to receiving flowers, but these stuck out to him. He couldn’t figure out why. They were endearing. Eric picked one of the flowers out of the bouquet and put it in his shirt pocket. And figured that was the end of it. 

But then the presents didn’t stop. Little things, right outside his doorstep. Nice smelling candles and more flowers and even a little wooden box that looked like it might’ve been hand carved. Chapman probably should’ve found it a little creepy. Instead he just found it so charming. 

Every morning, a little gift. It was romantic really. 

On the sixth day of gifts there was what looked like a valentine’s day box full of chocolate. Chapman picked it up and opened it immediately. Inside there was a whole variety of things in the little compartments. Dried flowers and cool rocks and candies, inside one was a little love note, in another a dainty little rocking chair that looked like it might’ve been made out of toothpicks. 

Eric sat there on his doorstep, slowly looking each thing over. He put them back into their box, placed it on his entryway table, and immediately headed down to the mortuary. 

“Antigone!” He yelled. 

Antigone responded, clearly annoyed, but still fond (at this point, he knew this tone well), “What?!” 

He skidded down the stairs into the mortuary. 

“I’ve got to know who they are.” He told her. She looked up from where she was elbows deep inside of an elderly man’s chest. 

“Who?” She asked, figuring it was not as much of an emergency as Chapman clearly thought it was and continuing with her work. 

“The gift giver.” He replied. “Who else?” 

“Oh, I don’t know, I’m a little preoccupied at the moment.” She snapped at him, then took a deep breath. “Sorry, I’m working on my patience. Now, who do you think it is?” 

Eric Chapman paused at that moment and felt a sudden wave of nervousness combined with the most overwhelming sense of hope. 

“Do you think-“ He started to say, but was interrupted by Antigone sighing. It wasn’t a disappointed sigh, though it was a bit long suffering. 

“Yes, Eric. I do think that it could be Rudyard.” She told him. And then they stayed there for a while. Chapman at the bottom of the mortuary stairs, Antigone working. 

“What do I do about it?” Eric finally asked. 

Antigone didn’t hesitate in her reply. “Well, it seems like this person has a plan. You’ve met my brother, yes? If he’s behind it, there’s a plan.” 

Eric figured that she was right. But he didn’t stop thinking about it for the rest of the day and into the night. 

He opened the door the next morning, bright and early as always, pleased to be alive that lovely Wednesday morning. He looked at his doorstep to see a letter. It was addressed to one Mr. Eric Chapman. He opened it.

As soon as he did, the envelope fell apart, the contents ending up all over himself and his doorstep. Eric was suddenly covered in glitter and dried flower petals. The envelope had been filled to the brim and he hadn’t even noticed. They were everywhere, in his hair and in the pockets of his shirt and on his doorstep. It was a mess. Chapman still looked at the note inside. 

“I love you. Good luck with the glitter.” 

And then he laughed. He laughed long and hard until the laughter felt like tears of relief. He shook as much glitter out of his hair as he could, figured it was a lost cause, and went to work. 

The entire morning his head was split. One half between the letters and the gifts, the other with his upcoming lunch with Rudyard. (As said before, to miss a Wednesday lunch would be a sinful act and simply could not be tolerated.) 

So Eric Chapman once again found himself, only this time with pink glitter in his pockets, at the door to the basement of the village hall. The door to the new village archives. He had raised his hand to open the door to walk in when the door was thrown open. 

Rudyard looked down at him and ever so carefully reached over and picked a piece of glitter out of Eric’s hair. Then he grinned, completely delighted. 

“Chapman!” He said gleefully and turned around, going back inside the archives, and leaving Eric with no choice but to follow. 

And follow he did, cautiously, of course. But excitedly. He liked the way Rudyard had reached down to him. It was kind, if a little teasing. That was what Rudyard was, kind, but with a tendency not to admit it. 

So they had lunch. Eric felt awkward at first, but it passed quickly. Though it was hard to forget Rudyard during that moment, when he had touched him and it had been gentle and so so much. The memory was distracting to say the least. 

Eric took a deep breath and listened to Rudyard talk. He had photographed all of the old files, the ones that were deteriorating. Eric was glad to hear it, Rudyard had been worried about them. It was the little things, he supposed, as he watched Rudyard. It was the little things of love. 

Eric thought of the sea glass in his pocket. He had been carrying it around since it had been left at his doorstep. Smooth and calming. He played with it absentmindedly as Rudyard talked. If Eric had been any less distracted he would have noticed the way Rudyard’s eyes lit up when he saw the sea glass. 

And it felt normal. And perfect in its normalcy. That’s the way of it, isn’t it? New love and old love. The simplicities of it are the good parts. The kindness. The small things. They ate, they talked. 

At the end of the lunch, Rudyard leaned over and kissed Eric’s cheek. 

Chapman froze. He was confused. Delighted, but confused. 

“I- Rudyard, what was that for?” Eric asked, his face still red from the surprise. 

It was Rudyard’s turn to look confused. “For bringing lunch, of course. Why else?”

“No, no. You kissed me. Why did you kiss me?” Eric asked, now even more lost. 

Rudyard looked alarmed. “I’m sorry, I should’ve asked first. I figured since we were dating you would be okay with affection but I shouldn’t have assumed and-“ 

Eric interrupted him. “Dating?” 

“Well, yes. You kissed me. I figured and I’ve been sending you the gifts.” Rudyard explained, even more perplexed, his face gradually reddening. 

“Aha! So it was you!” Eric replied triumphantly. 

“Yes.” Rudyard said, sounding almost annoyed. “I mean, who else could it be?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know we were dating. Like romantically dating?” Chapman questioned, still confused, but sounding so pleased that Rudyard was a little struck by it. 

But Rudyard had heard enough. The Funn twins had several things in common to counterbalance their differences and one of the traits that they shared was impatience. 

“Yes, Chapman. I thought we were dating. You kissed me and I kissed you back and I figured that was it. I have been very effectively courting you for the last week but if that’s not what you want you might as well say so, hm? Make it clear to me-“

And then Eric Chapman, for the second time, kissed Rudyard Funn. 

From there they were forced to have a legitimate conversation about their stance regarding each other. It was easier after that. Considering their original display of miscommunication they figured it was only up from there. Fortunately, they were correct. 

It took around three days before Rudyard hinted that Chapman should come over for dinner. And so Chapman found himself at the first Funn (funerals) dinner. He looked around, eight people, one dog, one parrot, one mouse. It was a full dining room. 

Then he focused just on Rudyard, as he tended to do. Rudyard smiling, Rudyard happy, Rudyard there. So overwhelmingly there. And he didn’t feel lonely. And he felt that he never would be again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pspspsps chapyard fans come get your food


	11. Henry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I probably should’ve edited this more but I hope you all still like it

Henry Edgware was an interesting, somewhat multifaceted man. Most people did not know this. To an extent, he did not know just how interesting he was. It seemed that the only person who was aware of this was Antigone Funn and she was very vocal about the subject. 

This was at the root of what Antigone Funn was in Henry Edgeware’s eyes. She was the proof that there existed a kindness that did not care whether he was worthy of it or not. A passion of sorts. Not painful, but gentle, healing. 

Henry had not considered himself to love Antigone for a long time. He always figured love to be a very important word, it felt very commital. He was enamored with her, had been for quite a while. But he had not considered it to be love. 

Then she had taken care of Esther. Henry sometimes wondered if she knew exactly what that meant. He assumed that she did, Antigone was like that, somehow she always knew. 

Henry Edgeware had effectively handed his heart to Antigone and she had read it Brontë and given it a bath. He had returned to the house early that morning to see Antigone. Henry did not consider himself a romantic, at least not publicly, but that was something he was starting to reconsider. 

Because he had loved Antigone Funn at that moment so much that it had swallowed him whole. There was a world that existed around him and separate from that was Antigone, her hair braided, barefooot, in her night gown. She was so beautiful. And so good. So human. He could have proposed on the spot. 

But he didn’t. Instead he asked her on a date. 

Henry Edgeware knew that with Antigone came a great many odd characters. He just wasn’t aware of what exactly that entailed. 

On his and Antigone’s first date, he had spotted Georgie. She had followed them there. He didn’t mind. He accepted the worry of Antigone’s family. Antigone, on the other hand, did mind. She had fumed quietly to him about it for a good deal of the night until he had distracted her enough that she seemed to forget about it. 

His first Funn Family dinner was an interesting thing. He had never experienced anything like it. He had been invited before, but had been afraid to accept. He did not like to admit it, but he was afraid of Georgie and Rudyard, hell, he was even afraid of Eric. They all fit together so well. Puzzle pieces that didn’t look like they matched, but when you took a step back you realize there isn’t a chance that they could exist without each other. Antigone was a part of that. 

It had been nice to have Jennifer there for that reason. They sat together and watched the four of them. Jennifer was more used to watching than he was. He knew that about her. She was happy to do so. She liked it that way. Henry wasn’t so sure where he stood regarding that, but her company was appreciated. 

During one of those weekly dinners, Rudyard had set the oven cooked lasagna on fire. Eric and Georgie were trying to put the fire out, Antigone was equallly consoling and yelling at Rudyard, and Rudyard was whining about his lost lasagna. So Henry and Jennifer had sat there, still at the kitchen table. 

“Do you think Rudyard’s got a burn? Should I go check on him?” Henry had asked.

Jennifer looked over at the disaster that was taking place in the kitchen. 

“I’m sure Rudyard’s fine.” She told him and patted his arm. 

They sat there for a while longer, just watching.

“Do you ever feel a little out of place here?” He found himself asking. 

“I suppose. I often do. It can be hard with them.” She considered. There was a scream behind them. It didn’t sound like an emergency. They both chose to ignore it. 

Jennifer paused, then continued. “So, what I’m trying to say is yes. I do feel out of place.” 

Henry nodded. “I sometimes think that this family humors me just because Antigone likes me here.” 

That made Jennifer laugh. “Oh you musn’t worry. I think that they like you just fine. Now, it looks like the fire’s gone out. I wonder what the plan is from here?” 

So they finished the dinner by Eric making grilled cheese. 

Despite this conversation, Henry held onto some concern. 

It wasn’t that he thought that they hated him. Antigone’s family seemed to enjoy his company. It was more a fear. Henry Edgeware wasn’t completely sure he could be in a family. It had been a long time since he last had. Even knowing this, he still brought it up to Antigone. 

“Do you think your family likes me?” He asked her one night. She looked up at him from where she was sitting on the bed, her hair already braided, ready to go to sleep. 

“Eric does. And Rudyard can be bribed. Jennifer likes you, so Georgie at least thinks you’re alright.” Antigone joked. 

“Jennifer seems more of an impulse control than anything. I don’t think that will stop Georgie from disliking me.” Henry commented. 

She just laughed and kissed his cheek. “Yes, but it will stop her from hurting you.” 

“Oh, that’s very reassuring, dear. I mean this seriously. Do you really think so?” He asked as he crawled into bed with her. 

They were close as they lay in bed. She smiled at him, very slowly, very genuinely. 

“Yes. I think they do.” 

So they slept. Or at least Antigone slept. Henry just sat there. This was the first time he had slept where Antigone lived. In her bedroom. It was so nice, he was so terrified. So Henry listened to the house. 

He had never really slept in an old house like this. You could listen to the sun set. The temperature dropped and it was audible. Like the house was releasing a breath. The tenseness of the day being exhaled. The cracks of the floorboards. The settling of the pipes. The house was shifting its weight. Henry thought it fascinating. 

He closed his eyes and listened to Antigone’s breaths next. They were steady. She was already asleep. She deserved to sleep, she already worked far too much. He turned in the bed to face her. She slept facing the ceiling. Quiet and steady and so deeply herself. Henry felt as if he would give her anything. He didn’t know how to want like this. It was frightening. 

Antigone was so very real. He could reach out and touch her and she wouldn’t hate his touch. She loved him. Henry Edgeware had an odd experience with fear. He had never really had the time to give the feeling the space it had needed previously. There had simply been no time in his schedule to be afraid. But now there was. And now there was so much to lose. 

Henry was afraid of Antigone and his feelings for her and the love she had for him and her family and their acceptance and it was all so very very much. So he got out of bed. Gently, softly. He kissed Antigone’s forehead as lightly as he could. Then he walked into the kitchen. 

And the doctor did just as his mother had taught him to. How he had done his entire life. He started to make a batch of cookies. 

Cooking in a kitchen that is not yours, while also not knowing where anything is, and it being late at night are already difficult cooking by themselves. Combined it led to a new challenge. Henry still managed to find everything he needed after opening every hidden cabinet in that centuries old kitchen. Then he got to work. 

Henry baked. And cried. And swore. He knew it was past midnight. That he should’ve allowed the dough to cool more before he put them into the oven. That he had spilled flour onto the floor and couldn’t find the broom in this damned house. But he didn’t care. He sat on the kitchen floor across from the oven. 

Henry then heard a voice from the entry to the kitchen. 

“Doctor?” Georgie asked, appearing at the door, wearing a pair of flannel pajamas. 

Henry jumped in surprise. 

Georgie looked apologetic. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. I was just wondering, what are you doing?” 

“I-“ He started, faltered, took a deep breath. “I’m baking cookies.” 

Georgie grinned and sat down next to him on the kitchen floor. “Ooh, what kind?” 

He returned her smile. “Chocolate chip.” 

Georgie nodded. “Good choice. Why are you baking chocolate chip cookies at one in the morning?” 

Henry admired that about Georgie. Right to the point. No space for hesitation. 

“I couldn’t sleep. Why are you up?” He asked. 

Georgie just shrugged and looked into the oven. The cookies were slowly baking. 

“Those are huge. They’re like flying saucers.” She noted, gesturing towards the pans in the oven. 

“Yeah. Do you think someone will get angry at me for making cookies?” He asked. 

Georgie looked shocked. “No one is going to get angry at you for making cookies for Christ’s sake, doc, and if they do I’ll make sure they aren’t anymore.” 

Henry smiled lightly, “Thank you, Miss Crusoe. That’s very nice of you.” 

And there was a quiet that rested upon them. Companionable. But still a late night silence. 

“I’m afraid. And I don’t know how to be afraid.” Georgie suddenly said. 

“I’m scared too.” Henry replied. 

Georgie took his hand. Her hand was warm and calloused, there was a long scar on it from her second pointer finger knuckle down to the wrist. He recognized the marks of stitches. 

“Why are you scared?” Georgie asked. 

Henry laughed shakily. “God, this is going to sound so silly. I’m scared of Antigone and the rest of you and your love. I just...I don’t know how to reciprocate. Or love right. I don’t know how to do it right.” 

Georgie gave him an odd look. “There’s no one right way to love.” 

The oven dinged. The first batch of cookies were done. 

Georgie helped Henry take them out of the oven. She had barely waited for them to cool before she bit into one. 

“These are fantastic.” She said. It was a fact. Not a piece of praise, not a compliment. A fact. His cookies were fantastic and there was nothing to be changed about that. 

And they were once again on the kitchen floor watching the oven. 

“Alright, I’ve made you cookies. I’ve bared my soul. Why are you afraid?” 

Georgie laughed, then hesitated, and finally spoke, “I don’t like change.” 

Georgie paused to take a deep breath. It was Henry’s turn to grab her hand. Georgie continued, “Jennifer scares me. She’s so new. And exciting. I guess, I’m scared that she’ll leave. And I’m scared to lose what I have with Rudyard and Antigone and Eric. Things are changing. And I know it’s for the better. It just terrifies me, that’s all.” 

Henry nodded. And Georgie sighed. 

“I want to ask if I can move in with her.” Georgie said and the finality of the statement hung heavy. Henry squeezed her hand gently. He was unsure, but he wanted to comfort. 

And they sat like that. Both looking forward to futures that they had been unprepared for and frightened by the reality of them. 

Henry felt a suddden surge of emotion. A good feeling. He wracked his brain for it. ‘Oh,’ he thought, ‘family. I have family now.’ And the thought felt quiet but the echo of it made his bones shake. 

“Georgie,” he said, breaking the silence, “What are we waiting for?” 

“The batch of cookies to be done?” She joked. 

“You know it’s not that. Ask Jennifer to move in with you.” He then looked at her very sternly. “As your sole general practitioner it is my duty to make sure that you are taking care of yourself. The emotional distress caused by these thoughts simply cannot do. Move in with your girlfriend.” 

Then Georgie laughed and said, “Fine, doc. I will.” 

Which is how Henry Edgeware began to learn that family was not all as complicated as people liked to make it out to be. It was a choice and an effort. He supposed it was like love in that way. He had never been more ready in his life to give Antigone Funn and every single oddity that came with her, his love, wholly and truly, despite how scared he was of doing so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know if any of you care, but I think I have one(?) chapter left to write and I would listen to one song on repeat while writing each set of two chapters so here are the songs:   
> Georgie: These Days by Nico   
> Rudyard: Absolutely Cuckoo by The Magnetic Fields   
> Antigone: Me and My Husband by Mitski   
> Jennifer: You Swan, Go On by Mount Eerie   
> Eric: We Lived Alone by Connie Converse   
> Henry: Dedicated To The One I Love by The Mamas & The Papas


	12. Henry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a very short final chapter

Henry Edgeware stayed up late one night. He was thinking, as one often does when up past midnight. He thought slowly and carefully about a multitude of things. 

At first he thought of Georgie. How they had sat together on the kitchen floor. They had stayed there until morning, talking and laughing and crying. He thought of the way she told him that she felt as if the grief had become lighter. It stayed, it mattered, but it was like a flower in her pocket, not a rain cloud over her head. How she had told him that she felt so perfectly alive. 

He thought of Rudyard Funn. He had sat Henry down once. Pulled him aside. It took Henry a while to remember when. It was early when he had first started to date Antigone. It had been a rotten day in Pifflingvale. Stormy and wild. They were standing outside in the blowing wind. 

Rudyard had looked at him in that odd way he does. Sort of picks you apart, sort of cross, sort of loving. He had told Henry that he owed him. That what he had done for Antigone meant something. 

Henry thought of the way he had smiled at Rudyard and told him that he owed him nothing. That what he himself owed Rudyard cancelled it out. That it made them even. 

He thought of Jennifer. Who had moved in with Georgie, had kissed her right then and there in the entryway to the house once known as Funn Funerals. Her smile had started from her eyes that day. She wasn’t afraid to love. 

Henry thought of Eric. Who was perhaps the happiest he had ever seen him. Glowing and brilliant, but different than before. Eric was messier now. Gleeful. He seemed alive. He thought of Eric inviting him to coffee. They had sat on the curb outside of the hospital drinking teas. Eric had told him about Rudyard. His face seemed to glow. 

He thought of the first time he met Antigone Funn. How she had held him and he had thought he had died. That it was over. But instead it wasn’t. Maybe it actually was. Maybe he had died and this was some sort of bizarre afterlife. Heavenly, perhaps, but not very. Too real. Too much pain. So maybe he wasn’t dead. But he knew that he was lucky. 

The next morning Henry woke up and kissed Antigone’s forehead. 

“I love you.” He said. A truth, like the universe is infinite or the world smells different after a rain or you carry my heart. 

Antigone had smiled and said, “I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I FINISHED IT!!

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope that I finish this fic


End file.
